Run
by YFWE
Summary: Run to the water and find me there, burnt to the core but not broken.


**I wrote this for a contest on a TLK forum I occasionally visit. It's complete with a few lyrics from Live's fantastic song "Run to the Water." Recommend giving it a listen.**

"**Run"**

"Run to the water

And find me there"

So had spoken Simba's dreams for many days prior to his moment of action.

Rarely had he believed in superstition, save for the stories of the Great Kings – which he recently discovered were true. But an old adage that one's dreams could actually speak to oneself? He never thought much of it.

But his dreams held some merit, he thought. In earlier days, not long after his father's death, Mufasa would speak to him. "You have forgotten me," his dream-father would say. "_You have forgotten_ who you are and so have forgotten me."

And behold what had resulted: just the previous evening, Mufasa had appeared to Simba in the clouds, with the help of the shaman Rafiki. There he spoke the same words his embodiment had spoken in his son's dreams.

Simba realized it was probably a fair idea to listen to his dreams from then on.

However, the words of his most recent slumber troubled him. "Run to the water," he repeated. "Water…"

It appeared as though he was doing the exact opposite of that which his dream had instructed. The lush, green jungle landscape had soon given way to a grassier plains terrain, and now to arid desert. His paws were dirtied under the dust and sand as an unforgiving sun beat down on his tepid frame. The lion slowed his gait across the sandy topography, glancing about him.

He recalled these grounds, his recollections blinking in his conscious like a series of murals on a great tree. How long it had been since he had been here – not since Scar's hyenas chased him away from the Pridelands, and since Timon and Pumbaa had rescued from a desiccated death. Presently he felt not unlike he did that very day – hot, exhausted, anxious.

Though in the previous instance he had felt unwanted. Now he knew better.

Simba wished he could stop completely and could rest for a while, even in the rays of the formidable star above him, but Scar would not simply wait for him to get a good night's rest. He would press on.

"Run to the water

And find me there

Burnt to the core but not broken."

The words resonated in his head again as he pondered their meaning. They came from a voice unlike any he had previously heard – deep but angelic, as if from the Great Kings themselves. Not a being from this plane and at the same time very much a familiar creature. Both amongst the living and amongst the spirits.

There was water in the Pridelands, he thought. "Scarce, but there."

Besides, his instructions were to return to his homeland. This supposed quest for water could wait.

Fleetingly he thought of Nala, and even of Timon and Pumbaa, back in the jungle. He had not even said goodbye… or told them where he was going…

On he walked.

Simba did not know what to expect when he returned to the Pridelands, and that alone frightened him. He knew his mother was still alive – Nala had told him that – and that Scar was still in power. He would have to combat his uncle for the throne, and while he knew Scar to be sorely lacking in strength, as he would often say, "as far as _brains_ go, I've got the_lion's share." After many seasons apart, he did not know how Scar's mind worked._

"Oh desert, speak to my heart," whispered the once-future king, gaze downcast. "Tell your deepest secrets unknown to me."

"I will not be moved," came a voice within his head.

The voice was sudden and unexpected, and not unlike the one of his dreams.

"Wh-wha…" he wondered aloud.

Simba felt an impulsive urge to sprint forward again, and did so, half out of frustration and half out of surprise. Someone had spoken to him, the voice in his dreams… he was sure of it.

The lion careened across the dusty valley, kicking up a thick cloud of sand behind him which all but masked him. Midday was approaching, and no breeze came as refuge from the sun's blistering rays. All Simba could do was run, minding the occasional cracks in the surface of the ground. There was no one around him, and this likely would stay stagnant for quite a while.

He was completely aware of the possibility that he had imagined the voice, and he was unsure where it could have come from otherwise. It was not his father's, nor Rafiki's, nor anyone else he knew personally.

His steps began to feel lighter against the ground, which to Simba meant that he must be nearing the Pridelands – the soil was a bit softer rather than rough, and thus would provide sanctuary for his tired paws. He smelled the air, itself a grainy substance which was bereft of any sort of real olfactory trigger. However, he could also tell that the air was clearer here, meaning – hopefully – that he was nearer the Pridelands and further from the thick-aired desert.

"Run to the water

And find me there

Burnt to the core but not broken."

No sooner had the words replayed in his mind that he cursed himself for bringing them up again. Alas, he was still confused. What did it mean?

Another saying in the dream, lesser but still prevalent, came to mind:

"Don't try to find the answer," it said, "when there's no question here."

And that too puzzled Simba. Did that mean there was no reason for him to question things? That he was not supposed to question that which he had been sent to do?

Troubling times, these were, indeed.

After what felt like many cycles of the sun and moon, Simba could finally see Pride Rock in the distance – albeit quite far away, a tiny speck on the horizon.

"Run to the water… run…" repeated the voice within him.

But as Simba glanced around, he presently realized that there was no water to be found.

In fact, the Pridelands as he recalled them were nowhere to be found as well.

He had expected a greener sight, one with trees and the occasional savanna grass, and the waterhole, and plenty of herds grazing in its many fields. Instead he found none of this. Instead he found an arid wasteland, bereft of that which made it 'home' to begin with.

For the first time since he left the jungle, Simba was truly frightened.

And as he felt the unwelcoming chill of fear creep up his body, falling short of engulfing him completely, the voice spoke to him again, this time with new words:

"Brother, let your heart be wounded, and give no mercy to your fear. Run to the water, and find me there, burnt to the core but not broken."

Simba shook his head in disgust. Not only was he hearing voices, but the voice told him to both be unafraid and to find something that was not there.

The prince pawed at the ground in frustration, turning to and fro as he attempted to muster up the courage to approach Pride Rock. He was alone, and felt weak by now, having run for what seemed like days.

But just as he was about to give up, about to turn back and forget about all that Nala and Rafiki had told him, something hit him – a wave of realization, splashing onto him in great currents. Understanding trickled into his mind, his head a well into which all flowed freely.

Around him he heard the sound of dripping water, flowing as if in a small stream or against the banks of a tiny pool. The sound filled his ears, a delicious cacophony that was a welcome departure from the calm solitude of the desert.

And he knew. He understood.

It was as if the earth was speaking to him. A disembodied voice that belonged not to a living or dead lion, but to something that was both alive and dead, not there and omnipresent. Nature itself had spoken to Simba – the grass and the trees and even the dusty ground of the Pridelands.

He understood their predicament. He had already seen what had happened to his homeland and could barely believe such a thing could occur.

But he had hope.

"Run to the water, and find me there… burnt to the core but not broken."

Burnt… but not broken.

Suddenly Simba was filled with a hope and a determination unlike anything he had experienced in his life.

And he knew what must be done.

"Simba!" called a voice behind him. The lion snapped out of his trance, the sounds disappearing with it, as he whirled around to see Nala approach.

He understood. And he was not alone.

He would save the earth from its arid near-death. To Simba, it was as important as assuming the throne. His destiny.


End file.
